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V 

POEMS 


C. T. DAVIS 






“P«S"b50"I 

A n>'STP4 


Copyright , ^ 

L. C. MILSTEAD 


Printed in the United States of America 



JUL 23 '23 ' 

V 

\ 

©C1A752191 


Vip ^j/ 


to 

IVinnie ID avis 


. now 

I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay , 

And wearied at thy feet I lay 
My wares ere I go forth to sell . 

The long bazaar will praise , but thou — 
Heart of My Heart—have I done well? 

— Kipling 





These verses have appeared from time to time 
in the Arkansas Gazette, and thanks and 
acknowledgment are expressed to 
the Arkansas Gazette for 
permission to republish 
them here 


CONTENTS 


f 

Hills of Home. y 

Sea Pictures. 8 

Legende Vielle. 9 

Nocturne. io 

Knowledge.11 

Lex.12 

Fishing Time.13 

Radio.14 

In April.15 

Parable of the Talents.16 

In October.18 

Devotional.19 

Treasure.20 

In the Death Cell.21 

Challenge.22 

Tu Quoque.23 

Long Ago Land.24 

Surf Song.25 

Autumn: A Sacrament.26 

Renaissance.27 

The Little Winds.28 

A Hill in Palestine.29 

Other Dawns.30 

The Sea.31 

Recompense.3 2 

To the Restless Ones. 33 

Jonquils. 34 

Epilogue. 35 


































t 










































HILLS OF HOME 


? 

After long days when I come 
Once more from far-roving home, 
While I watch with eager eyes 
Old loved landmarks, friendly-wise; 
Sudden bursting into view 
Sharp etched on the skies' clean blue, 
Lo, the hills of home arise. 

Always 'round the curve they lie 
Waiting hid as I draw nigh, 

Till I pass the angled bend 
And the last long slope ascend, 

And the shortening road runs straight; 
There to welcome me they wait — 
Hills of home, and journey's end. 

Hoofbeats quickening on the trail — 
Grind of train wheels on the rail — 
Motor swerving sharp and sheer — 
Steamer reaching for the pier — 

Curve or headland, break or bend 
I must pass, and at the end 
Stand the home hills, clean and clear. 

Thus, when fate my spirit brings 
To the ordained end of things, 

I shall come as now I come 
Through far spaces wearisome, 

Through the shrouding veils that lie 
Twixt time and eternity, 

Till they blaze against the sky; 

Gold and jade — the Hills of Home. 


SEA PICTURES 


? 

Thunder and crash of the wind-swept waters, 
Swift white combers that swirl and flee — 
Flashing limbs of the sea-king’s daughters 
Riding the sea horses in from sea .... 

League-long swell of the tides advancing, 

Low lullabies that the night waves croon — 
Chant of the little white sea-elves dancing 
Down the white moon path to the white moon. 

Bleak black waste where the dim haze hovers, 
Gray mist wraiths that sink and climb —- 
Phantom sloops of the old sea rovers 
Beating back to the Ports of Time. 


LEGENDE VIELLE 


f 

In the long and long ago across the world came faring 
A being wrought of beauty as of mist and dreams and fire, 
Of crimson lips that breathed a spell, of witchery ensnaring, 
Of langourous deep eyes that moved to madness and desire. . . 

Unto the magic charm of her the high gods made obeisance 

And in her honor on a night the banquet board was spread 

With clustered gems among the viands gleaming for her 
pleasance, 

And rose and gold and purple wines, and amber wines and red. 

Yet in the gypsy heart of her the wander song was singing — 

The wine stains spread across the boards, and in the light of day 

The scattered gems like fallen stars along the cloth were 
clinging — 

Ah, but the gypsy feet of her had borne her far away. 

And thus it was for evermore; when Summer hath departed 
The high gods mark her passing with the immemorial sign — 
On all the winds the wander song that calls the gypsy-hearted; 
On all the trees the glowing tints of jewels and of wine. 


Page 9 


NOCTURNE 


* 

.And He called the darkness Night. Gen. 1:5. 

? 

God spake . . . and there was light. 

Across the aching emptiness of things 
The flaming sun swept, mercilessly bright. 

No rest, no ease — naught but the red raw earth, 
The rough unverdured hills, the steaming sand 
And slime primordial along the coast 
Whenas the seas drew back at His command. 

Tragic, forlorn and naked ’neath the glare 
The new world lay — on land or sea no shade 
To veil from sight the shrinking plasmic life 
That faltered through the ooze, unformed, afraid— 

Offshore the waters blazed to burnished gold; 

The red sun sank in splendor swift from sight 
And healing darkness closed across the world — 
God smiled . . . and it was night. 


Page 10 




KNOWLEDGE 


Is happiness the thing within the grasp. 

The thing that was, or that which is to be? 
I asked in vain — the silent gods slept on 
And would not answer me. 

And so I dreamed of visioned loveliness, 

And afterward, of fair remembered things; 
But happiness — I only caught the flash 
Of his swift flying wings. 

Too late have I gained wisdom, Well Beloved; 

But now how bitterly I understand.... 

You were so near — but nevermore may I 
Reach out and touch your hand. 


Page // 


LEX 


? 

Fettered to earth in bond and thrall 
Once more I hear the primal call; 

The ancient urge that stirs in vain —• 

Here on the city's outer edge 

The brown woods blend with sage and sedge, 

And high above, a driving wedge — 

The geese are ranging South again. 

Freedom is singing in the flight 

Through unprobed space, unmeasured height; 

Freedom beyond all stay or let. 

Free is the beat of cadenced wings; 

Free is the olden rune that sings 
Sagas of world-old wanderings — 

Freedom, hazard, romance — and yet 

The wild goose driving down the sky 
Is bound as firm by rules as I; 

Each from the selfsame statute draws. 

In each of us are set the fangs 
Of want, and stress, and hunger pangs; 

O’er each of us the sentence hangs. 

Each moves according to his laws. 


Page 12 


FISHING TIME 


I 

There is a glamour to earth and air 
That lingers and troubles and thrills; 

And every gypsying breeze that blows 
Comes to me sweet with the little wild rose 
And the brookside glade where the dogwood glows, 
And the laurel that hides in the hills. 

Against the roar of the city’s streets 
I close my ears — and I hear 
The chant of the pines in their cloistered halls, 

The song of the river that lifts and falls 
And the long low note as the wood dove calls, 

And the whippoorwill challenging clear. 

Never mistaking, never denying, 

The woods’ heart calls to my heart 
In the thousand ways that are known to me — 
Starshine and campfire, flower and tree, 

Whisper of night winds, birdsong and bee — 

I will arise and depart. 


Page ij 


RADIO 


I 

So little while ago the world was still 
Save for the night wind whispering at the pane; 
Now, softly through my darkened chamber breathes 
Your voice again. 

Your voice, Beloved, lyric, limpid, clear 
In the warm tones that fall caressingly — 

“Less than the dust —” as in the olden days 
You sang to me. . . . 

Your voice so near me, and so exquisite — 

It wraps me in its magic fold on fold 
And in remembered wizardry I walk 
The ways of old. 

Old ways of glamour, stardust, and fair dreams; 

Old days of blended bitterness and bliss — 

The glory of your song — the touch of you — 

Your pulsing kiss.... 


I know not what far city holds you now. 

Nor who lies now beneath your music’s thrall. 
Yet, O Beloved, down the empty years 
I hear you call.... 


Page 14. 



IN APRIL 

? 

When April’s mellow moon sets 
And April’s stars are bright, 

The cloven hoofs of Pan go 
Clicking through the night. 

Again his wheaten pipe notes 
Plead and purl and thrill 
In every vagrant wind blown 
From every shadowed hill — 

Ah, blossomy green springtime 
So beautiful and vain! 

Tread light where buried Youth lies 
’Neath slanting April rain. 


Page i$ 


PARABLE OF THE TALENTS 


I 

And unto one he gave five talents.Math. 25:15. 

f 

Stars in their courses, sun and the moon; 
Daybreak and noontide, twilight and night; 
Somber December, the glory of June; 

Sand wastes of yellow and snow wastes of white; 
Little wild creatures so lissomly free, 

Deep in the wildwood silent and green; 

Forest and mountain, city and sea — 

These have I seen. 

Birds at their vespers, winds of the morn; 

Crash of the surf and the bumblebee’s drone; 
Chorus of foxhounds, challenge of horn; 

Call of the wild goose, distant and lone; 

Laugh of a babe, and the murmur of love; 

Mating song of the mocking bird; 

Whisper of pine trees, croon of the dove — 

These have I heard. 

Dew on the grasses, moss on the tree; 

Soft boughs making my bed at night; 

Urge of the river and lift of the sea; 

Winds that clasp as a lover might; 

Passion and pulse of a woman’s.kiss; 

Death drawing back where his hand had clutched 
Depths of despair, and the far heights of bliss — 
These have I touched. 


Page 16 



Parable of the Talents —Continued 

* 

Rare old wine, and the clean cold draught 
Of a spring on the slope of a mountain side 
Meat that is got by the huntsman’s craft; 
Sweet salt tang of the turning tide; 

Wild herbs under the open blue; 

Delights of a banquet, wantonly wasted; 
Orange and aloes, wormwood and rue — 
These have I tasted. 

First faint breath of returning spring; 
Wood smoke ringing the open camp; 
Jasmine flowers when the night winds sing; 
Odor of death in a steaming swamp; 

Roses a-droop on a maiden’s breast; 

Fields of poppies where dreams exhaled; 
Fresh wet sands and the sea at rest — 
These have I smelled. 

These have I known; this I have done, 
And when at last I am called to tell 
The tale of my talents one by one -— 

Have I done well? 

Master who gave them, have I done well? 


IN OCTOBER 

? 

In the pallid gray of twilight when the first faint stars are 
gleaming 

Comes a little low-toned murmuring that will not stay or still, 

Through the green and golden cypress by the quiet waters 
dreaming, 

Through the sumac branches flaring into scarlet on the hill — 


In the haze of opal morning when the river mists are massing 

Comes a whisper through the withered fronds of dead ferns 
in the fen — 

The parting song of ended hours; the feet of summer passing — 
The march of splendid sun bright days that come not back again. 


Page 18 


DEVOTIONAL 


To you the stately ritual 
Of scented censers in the nave; 

Peal of the organ and chime of the bells 
Blended in music that mutes and swells; 
Chant of the chorus that wanes and wells — 
Litany, orison and ave — 

To me, pine woods where the night winds sing 
And reed-margined rivers whispering. 

He who hath seen one single dawn, 

He who hath lain one night alone 

Under the stars when the south winds bring 

The matchless miracle of spring; 

He needs no creeds of his fellow men, 

Nor rites nor the written word to know 
God’s glory is, and shall be so 
World without end — amen. 

Amen. 


Page 19 


TREASURE 


Gather ye gold, the old ones said; against the evil days. 

And so into the world I went and up and down its ways 
I gathered gold and hoarded gold, against the evil days. 

And now the evil days have come and I may seek no more, 
And so I turn unto my hoard and count it o’er and o’er, 
Knowing against the evil days I have a goodly store .... 

For here is gold of goldenrod that blossomed in the fall, 

And the red gold of tiger lilies, arrogant and tall; 

And buttercups and jonquil blooms so slim and virginal. 

And here a flash of oriole’s wing, and here a hen quail’s throat; 
And mottled gold of leaping trout, and gold-spun spume afloat, 
And bright gold of the summer sun on every dancing mote. 

And here is gold of golden dawn when all the world was bright; 
And lances of the afterglow stabbing the waning light; 

And sparkling cities seen from sea, and stars that shine by night. 

And here a woman’s golden hair, and here her gold-flecked eyes; 
And here the golden voice of her in old sweet melodies; 

And here the golden heart of her — and here is Paradise . . 

A great and goodly golden store, and all of it is mine; 

I hold it close against my heart; it warms me through like wine - 
The old ones laugh — but ah, I know how it is superfine. 


Page 20 


IN THE DEATH CELL 


t 

. . . . At dawn I die. 

Beyond the guarded wall a crescent moon 
Slopes westward, and a breath of outer air, 
Poignantly sweet above the prison stench, 

Touches my cheek in lingering half-caress.... 

Now is the waning year at harvest time. 

Now are the trees in gold and scarlet robed 
For that last splendid scene which ends the play. 

High argent stars set in the velvet night — 

Soft pungent sod still warm with life that was — 
Flowers and fruits empurpled in the sun — 

And plangent tides — and incense of the pines — 

I knew them all. Ah God — how sweet they were! 

How sweet they were — and they shall come again; 

For I have seen it proven by the years 

That every palingenesis of spring 

Restores to earth the things that make earth fair; 

Each dying leaf bears in its gold a promise; 

Renascence whispers in each autumn wind. 

I wonder if they know — these little ones — 

They do not pass away; or if, like me, 

They murmur as the night pales in the East 
The only thing God giveth me to know — 

This day I die. 


Page 21 


CHALLENGE 

? 

Let me rest; I am weary of body and soul — 
But hark ye! the battle still wages; 

There is clamor of steel as the troopers wheel 
And saber with saber engages . 

But let me draw rein; here let me wait 
For the word that the runners are bringing — 
Doth it change the tide that its trend is descried? 
Hark ye! the trumpets are ringing .... 

And what is the gain or the loss to me? 
Naught but thine own soul's marring. 

Or the glory that bides with him who rides 
With a song on his Ups to the warring. 


Page 22 


TUQUOQUE — 

I 

Alone I watched the ancient hills grow green, 
And gold, and gray, and green at spring again. 
Long blank unseeing years I saw but this -— 
Time’s changing chain. 

Alone, I could not hear their music swell; 

Only the measured beat of marching years — 
Gray winter’s mantle laid along the scarp; 
Green April’s tears. 

But now their beauty grips me by the heart. 
At dusk and dawn, and in the starlight’s sheen 
With wakened eyes I see their glory flame —• 
You, too, have seen. 


Page 23 



LONG AGO LAND 


I wonder if heaven is like 

Long Ago Land — 

Fair country that each of us knew — 

Knew, but could not understand 
Till it faded away and was gone 
Down the vistas of vanishing years 
As dream lands that pass in the dawn, 

Rainbowed in tears. 

Long Ago Land — Long Ago Land — 

Ah, the ache and the heartbreak 
Of years that have spanned 
Long Ago Land — 

And the hazy dim memories that make it up; 

The battered gilt cup 
And the sad-eyed hound pup 
And box of tin soldiers impossibly dressed; 

Plum blossoms white 
And the big moon at night 
And the soft tender singing that lulled and caressed. 
And the coolness and balm of a slender white hand — 


Page 24 


I wonder if heaven is like 
Long Ago Land. 


SURF SONG 


? 

Magic and night, and starshine on the sea; 

And you, Beloved, your white arms clasped and clinging — 
Low murmured whispers, lips on lips athrill — 

. And the surf singing. 

Faint fading stars and swirling haze of dawn, 

Argent and opal, on the gray seas lying; 

Vanishing witchery, and a long farewell — 

. . . . And the surf sighing. 

Glare of white day, and bitter brazen skies; 

Burnt empty sands beneath the high sun throbbing; 
Emptiness, loneliness — clear across the world — 

. . . . And the surf sobbing. 


Page 25 


AUTUMN: A SACRAMENT 

? 

God lays His hand again upon the hills — 

Through the dim forest aisles an incense drifts,. 
The far blue haze of wood smoke in the pine. 
And gray cowled Summer like a penitent 
Walks down the claustral halls, aloof, alone. 

God lays His hand again upon the hills — 

A surpliced cardinal, the maple lifts 
His golden mitre o’er incarnadine 

Of stole and vestment; and in blended chant 
River and wind their orisons intone. 

In red and candle-flame of daffodils, 

In gold and ash, God’s hand is on His hills. 


Page 26 


RENAISSANCE 


? 

The kiss of dew and mellow golden sunlight — 

A flower blooms beneath spring's tender skies. 

Then leaden hours, and wild winds cold and keening — 
A flower dies. 

Youth’s shining dawn; the splendor of great dreaming; 
The glamour of the fight a little span; 

Then nightfall, and the Valley of the Shadow — 

So passes man. 

And this is death — yet every wind-blown blossom 
Casts o’er the earth its quick and vital seed; 

And every day brings back, unchanged and splendid, 
Some valiant deed. 


Page 2j 


THE LITTLE WINDS 


? 

Keen with the kiss of berg and floe 
And the rime of the ringing North; 

Slashing and shouting up from the South, 

The great world winds ride forth. 

Breaking, upthrusting, smashing down — 

Surf roll and riven trees — 

Their song is the wail in the mountain pass 
And the moan of the leveled seas. 

And they are good when the camp is snug 
Or the staunch ship lifts through the foam — 

But give me the kiss of the little winds , 

The clean caress of the little winds; 

The balm and bliss of the little winds — 

The little winds of home. 

The desert and open sea are prey 
To all the winds that blow. 

And the dead campfire and the masthead light 
Show the roads that the rovers go. 

And I have seen; and I am back 
From the plains and the empty seas. 

I have come to the scent of the jasmine flowers 
And the song in the maple trees; 

To the breeze-borne message of homely things 
And the old loved ways I come — 

And Til take the kiss of the little winds , 

The clean caress of the little winds; 

\1 he balm and bliss of the little winds — 

The little winds of home. 


Page 28 


A HILL IN PALESTINE 


? 

Stood a hill in Palestine 
Fresh and fair to look upon. 

Soft winds swept across its face 
And its grass was dew-spun lace — 
Lo, and'that was Calvary 
Smiling in serenity; 
Half-awakened Calvary 
Dreaming in the dawn. 

Stood a hill in Palestine 

Dusty ’neath the trampling shoon. 
And there toiled upon its road 
One who bore a heavy load — 

Lo, and that was Calvary 
Trusting all humanity; 
Unsuspecting Calvary 
Wondering at noon. 

Stands a hill in Palestine 
Blasted by an utter blight. 

Blood and tears have made it wet. 
On its crest a Cross is set — 

Lo, and that is Calvary 
Damned to all eternity; 

Black and brooding Calvary 
Shadowed by the night. 


OTHER DAWNS 

? 


Against the east the blackness fades to gray. 

The dingy buildings bulk against the gloom, 

And restlessly and faint and far away 

Life threads again the shuttles of its loom. 
Weaving once more its web of mist and murk 
In grind of wheels and tread of passing feet. 

The sparrows rouse — day’s weariness and work 
Begins again along the clanging street — 

Yet have I seen the day come swift and sweet; 

Yet have I seen the city tinged with fire 
When gilded wall and tower rose to meet 
The rising sun with rapture and desire — 

Old days, fair days that shall not come again — 

Yet still days come, and still the suns arise 
And time and tide go on unchanged as when 

I watched dawn waken in thy dream-drugged eyes. 


Page 30 


THE SEA 


I 

As the ebb tide plucks at the harbor piles so it plucks at 
my heartstrings 

With ghost gray fingers that beckon me, and a siren voice that 
sings 

Of the outbound ships and the lands that lie on the utmost 
edge of things. 


And I have known — Ah, I have known! — the waters that 
race and spill, 

The whip of the creaming wind blown spume, and the sails 
that slack and fill. 

(And leagues inland I rest tonight — but the gray sea calls 
me still). 


It calls with the shout of the lee shore surf where the combers 
crash and form; 

It calls with the chant of the channel tides when the night 
is still and warm; 

And the brooding hush of its silences in the still before the 
storm. 


And leagues inland I rest tonight — but the dream haze 
thins and clears, 

And sharp as in the old days rise the coast line and the piers — 

And the old sea songs come back to me down the dim mist- 
margined years. 


Page 31 


RECOMPENSE 


? 

He who has known earth’s bitterness and blight; 

He who has borne his Cross up Calvary; 

He who has walked in darkness in the night 

And watched dawn graying through Gethsemane 
Let him bear witness. He, and only he, 

May say how utter sweet God’s earth may be. 

Out of white heat the tempered steel is drawn; 

Out of the grape’s crushed heart the glowing wine; 
Biting, the sculptor’s chisel smites the stone; 

The acid smokes, and the pure gold runs fine. 

Each to the test — this is the age-old plan; 

Terror, travail and toil. Then comes a Man. 


Page 32 


TO THE RESTLESS ONES 


To the unlaid Viking spirit and the Viking men who wander 

Down uncharted seas to seek some hidden goal; 

To the lift and thrill and freedom as the old ties snap asunder 

And the wind raves through the cordage with the lee rail 
foaming under; 

To the urge of high adventure, to the lure of loot and plunder— 
Skoal! 

To the roving blood of Romany that hears the greenwood 
calling 

When the wreathing wood smoke scents the twilit vale; 

To the mystic, magic hour when the shades of night are falling 

And the dim roads run to nothingness, enchanted and en¬ 
thralling; 

To the beckon of the brooding hills, half friendly, half 
appalling — 

Hail! 

To the men who may not linger when the beacon fires are 
burning — 

Gleaming lights of coast and camp that flare and fall; 

To the glamour and the hazard of the Land of No Returning, 

And her sons who will not brook the ties of love or lands or 
learning; 

Here is to you! I have known you — ache and emptiness 
and yearning — 

All. 


Page 33 


JONQUILS 


f 

First to touch forgotten dreams 
When they rouse and waken; 

First to hear the whispering sod 
While earth's lips are dumb — 
Little golden candle flames 
By the keen winds shaken; 
Lighted by the hand of God 
To guide Spring's footsteps home. 


EPILOGUE 


? 

When I am come before His bar to render 
The reckoning of how my goods were spent, 

I may not bear one thing of shining splendor 
As increase of the talents He hath lent. 

I may not lay before Him aught of glory, 

Nor bring the radiant tributes great ones bring 
Only an ill-wrought rhyme, a song, a story, 
Such as the least and lowliest may sing. 

I hold in trust things of the earth and earthy. 
As earth demanded I have paid the cost 
To live with men, the wastrels and the worthy 
But He may count it good I have not lost 

Belief in man and reverence for woman, 

Even with knowledge of the paths they trod; 
The trust as of a child in all things human, 
And, over all, unfaltering faith in God. 









? 


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